


Day 2: King of the Wood Elves

by ofplanet_earth



Series: 30 days of Barduil [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Claustrophobia, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Elevators, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Thranduil DOES like Bard, Thranduil doesn't like small spaces, Thranduil is NOT afraid of the dark, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard and Thranduil are on their way to the costume ball when the power goes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 2: King of the Wood Elves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveActuallyFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/gifts).



> day two is another request from LoveActuallyFan, because today is her birthday!!  
> sorry it's only got a teen rating, but they can't all be smutty! 
> 
> I went to the costume ball at the Hawthorne Hotel in Salem on friday, so I decided to set this fic there.

“Hey! Hold the door please!” Bard heard the elevator bell chime as it reached his floor. He was breathless as he ran down the hotel corridor, but if he missed this one it could be half an hour before it would make it all the way to the tenth floor again. 

Bard wasn’t complaining, honestly. He’d been lucky enough to get a ticket at all, what with this being the most historic hotel in Salem and this being Halloween weekend. Tauriel had managed to convince him to take a vacation with her just in time for Bard to snag one of the last available rooms. It was small, and his kids had to share a bed, but they didn’t seem to mind. 

They didn’t mind, that was, until Tilda had come down with a fever and Sigrid had been forced to stay in for the night and watch her. Now it was nearing eleven, the contest winners would be announced any minute and he hadn’t even seen Tauriel’s costume. She would never forgive him if she won and he’d missed it. 

So he ran faster as he heard the elevator ding, and managed to round the corner just as the doors had begun to slide closed. An elegant hand reached out to catch the door, holding it open as Bard took his last bounding steps inside. 

“Thanks mate,” He gasped and keeled over, resting his weight on his knees while he tried to catch his breath.

“Of course,” Bard finally looked up to see who had held the door for him and then he was breathless for an entirely different reason. He stood before a king, draped in fine silk robes all in shades of silver and red and black, intricately embroidered and perfectly tailored. His hair was long and smooth like fine strands of silver and gold and he wore a crown— at least, Bard thought it was a crown. It was made of delicate, twisted twigs, vibrant leaves and bright red berries and it accentuated the sharp angles of his porcelain face.

Bard was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “You’re Tauriel’s cousin, aren’t you?” yes, he was almost sure of it. “Thranduil, yeah?” 

“Yes,” The man stood tall and somewhat haughty, though Bard thought it must be quite careful work, keeping that crown in place. It wrapped round the back of his head and Bard couldn’t figure out how it was being held up. “And you must be her friend. Bard, isn’t it?” the king frowned. “I thought you were meant to be a bowman.” 

“Aye,” Bard frowned. “They took my bow at the door. Weapons policy or some rubbish. The thing was made of cardboard. I didn’t even have any arrows!”

“They took my sword,” The man smirked and his eyes shone bright with mischief. “But it wasn’t made of cardboard.”

Bard returned Thranduil’s smirk. “Well, your costume is stunning, even without it.” His eyes caught on the pale skin of Thranduil’s throat where it peaked from his high collar. He allowed himself one last, lingering look at the long, lean lines of his tall frame before he sighed. The dial above the door showed they were passing the fourth floor. “Tauriel is going to kill me.” 

“Yes, I believe we’ve both managed to call her wrath down upon us.” 

“Are you running late too?”

“I left the ball an hour ago. The cell reception was terrible, but I was able to make out a few choice words when she called to scream at me.” Bard cringed. If Tauriel was in a foul mood already, he could only imagine how livid she’d be if he did miss the contest. The elevator dinged as they passed the third floor— finally almost there— and the sounds of the ball began to drift through the metal doors. 

The lights flickered then, and their car came to a screeching, grinding halt. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Bard growled. From beyond the doors came a great uproar, screams and gasps and the occasional hysterical voice floating up above the din. Tauriel was going to kill him. 

His attention was drawn to Thranduil, invisible in the complete and solid dark of the elevator. Bard could hear the man take shallow, laboured breaths and then, the metallic boom of fists pounding on the door. 

“Hey, hey!” Bard dug into his pocket for his cell phone and turned on the flash light. There was Thranduil, his cool, kingly mask finally broken by an anxiety that had spread over his whole frame. “We’re alright! The power must have gone out but they’ll get it back up soon.” 

“And what if they don’t?” Thranduil rounded on him, the shadows cast by Bard’s flash light twisting his panicked expression into a caricature befitting the holiday. “What if we’re stuck here?” 

“Then at least you’re not alone, yeah?” Bard gripped Thranduil’s arm as he began to scream for help and pound on the doors again. “Come on, surely my company’s not that bad,” Bard tried to lighten the mood but Thranduil only began to pace the length of the elevator, his brow twisted in a frown and his teeth worrying at the skin of his fingers. 

“Come on, hey. Sit down.” Bard sat against the wall, shone his flashlight across the floor and waited for Thranduil to sit across from him. “Why don’t you tell me about your costume. You and Tauriel are part of a group, yes?” 

Thranduil sighed, but nodded. The elevator was small— barely wide enough for them to stretch out their legs alongside each other. “We’re Wood Elves.” 

“And are you their king?” 

“King of the trapped elevator, that’s what I am.” 

“No more of that! I’m trying to distract you and I’ll not have you foiling my plans.” Thranduil looked from Bard to the doors and back again, his frown deepening before he finally slouched against the wall. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not good with small spaces.” 

“That’s alright. I’m no good at small talk, so we’re both out of our element.” 

“You seem to be doing fine to me.”

“My kids are afraid of the dark, too.” Thranduil’s eyes flashed white hot in the shadow of the elevator and Bard smirked.

“I am not afraid of the dark!” Thranduil set his jaw and folded his arms, looking petulant and throughly affronted. 

“Alright, I’m sorry!” Bard raised his hands in surrender and chuckled. “Should we play a game?” 

“What sort of game?” 

“We could play Eye Spy,” Bard suggested. “Here, I’ll start. I spy with my little eye something… red.” He propped his phone against the doors of the elevator so that the flashlight shone over their feet and reflected off the metal of the walls.

In the dim light he could see Thranduil roll his eyes and gingerly pull the twisted twigs and leaves from his hair. “Is it my crown?” he asked, before setting it on the floor beside him.

“No,” Bard smirked.

“My robes?” Bard shook his head. “The carpet?” The floor beneath them was patterned red and green and blue, but that wasn’t what Bard had in mind, either. “Then I give up,” the Elvenking sighed. 

“It’s your cheeks,” Bard said simply. He watched with greedy eyes as the blush deepened and spread over Thranduil’s face. “Your turn.” 

Thranduil sighed and settled in lower against the wall, so that his black boots pressed against the wall beside Bard’s hand. “I spy with my little eye… something big.” 

Bard laughed, cringed dramatically and asked, “Is it my hair?” Thranduil shook his head. “Is it my smile?” He flashed the elf his best, most sly grin.

“No,” Thranduil’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk as his eyes flicked from Bard’s hair to catch on his lips. 

“Is it… my sparkling personality?” 

“It’s your ego.” 

Bard scoffed and kicked Thranduil’s hip gently with his foot, though he knew it was all in good fun. “Alright, enough of that. Another game.” 

Thranduil thought for a moment before holding his hand up, his fingers splayed wide. “Never have I ever been to a costume party before tonight.” 

“We’re playing Never Have I Ever? Really? What are we, twenty?” 

“As if Eye Spy was a better idea. It’s your turn.” 

Bard sighed and held up four fingers, feeling sour that the game had only just begun and he was losing already. “Never have I ever worn a wig.” 

Thranduil smirked and held his five fingers up proudly. “Neither have I.” 

“You’re joking! That is not your real hair.”

“Would you like to test that theory?” 

Bard huffed and let his head fall back against the wall again. “Fine. your turn.” 

Thranduil drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought. “Never have I ever had so much to drink that I threw up.” 

Bard frowned let his mouth fall open. “Are you serious? Not even once?” 

“I know how to hold my liquor.” Thranduil shrugged. Bard scowled and put down another finger. Only three left. 

“Never have I ever dressed up as an elf.” 

“That’s petty.” Thranduil said, though it did nothing to lessen Bard’s satisfaction at seeing him tuck his thumb against his palm. “Never have I ever been stuck in an elevator before.” 

Bard beamed, triumphantly presenting his remaining three fingers. “Never have I ever been afraid of being trapped in an elevator.” 

“I am _not_ afraid—“

“You had a near- panic attack right here in front of me!” 

“I was simply frustrated that I could not get to the party!” 

“Says the man who left for a whole hour.” 

“Fine,” Thranduil huffed. He tucked in his first finger and they were tied. “Never have I ever climbed a water tower on a dare.” 

“Alright that’s not fair. Did Tauriel tell you that?” 

“It doesn’t matter how I know, Bowman, only that I’ve never done it.” 

“You cheat!” 

“You lose a finger.” Thranduil smirked and licked his lips, but Bard shook his head and tried to focus. He had to come up with something— he would not let himself be distracted by Tauriel’s cousin, no matter how badly he wanted to touch his hair, or how well his costume fit his broad shoulders. 

“Never have I ever kissed a man,” Bard said. 

Thranduil quirked his lips in a knowing smirk. “Now I _know_ that’s not true—“ 

“—In an elevator.” Bard finished, and before Thranduil could reply, he’d risen to his knees and crossed the small elevator. He leaned his hands to the wall on either side of Thranduil’s face and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. 

“But you just said—” 

“The statement was true when I said it.” Bard grinned and sat back on his heels, one leg on either side of the elf’s. “And now you lose another finger.” 

Thranduil did not put down his third finger. Instead he raised his hand and pushed all five of them through the hair at Bard’s temples and pulled him in close again. His lips were smooth and his tongue was insistent against the front of Bard’s teeth. “You’re a bloody cheater,” Thranduil mumbled against his mouth. 

“Aye, but I’m a good distraction, aren’t I?” 

“Keep it up and I won’t play anymore.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Bard smiled, settled down onto Thranduil’s lap and teased his mouth open with his tongue. 

When the lights finally came back on, Thranduil stood to press the button that would get them moving again. But as Bard smoothed his hair and tucked his shirt in, they began going up instead of down. 

“Tauriel will understand.” 

Bard wasn’t sure she would, but he was willing to risk her wrath if it meant spending the night with Thranduil, king of the Wood Elves.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to subscribe, make sure it's to the [30 days of Barduil series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/346025) not to this story! 
> 
> it's still not too late to suggest a fic idea (unless you're reading this on 30 November, in which case yeah, it's a little late)! [send me an ask](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll add the prompt to the list!
> 
> I like to tag [inspiration](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-of-barduil) for the stories I write. 
> 
> you can keep up with my word count on my [novel page](http://nanowrimo.org/participants/ofplanet-earth/novels/30-days-of-barduil) or on my [tumblr](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo).


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